Kunal’s blinding rage sent a searing pain to his temple and he lurched forward, gasping. This was why his uncle had taught him control, to remain calm and assess. These headaches plagued him whenever he didn’t. He caught himself and leaned on the side of his uncle’s ornately carved bed, an engraved golden eagle on the bed post digging into his palm.
A succession of quick footsteps resounded on the stairs. Kunal straightened immediately, trying to compose himself and just as he felt the final tremor leave his hands, the door opened.
Commander Panak swung open the door, two soldiers behind him. Their faces blanched.
“I hoped you wouldn’t see this,” the commander said. “I went to find pallbearers to carry him down for his rites. We found him only a quarter hour ago. We also found a soldier unconscious outside.”
Kunal nodded. “I was just about to alert the Fort.”
“No need, but appreciated.” He gave Kunal a strained smile. “A soldier to the core.”
“The killer?” Kunal’s stomach was a roiling sea, but he kept his face placid as a lake. His uncle would have been proud. The commander shook his head wearily.
“Unknown.”
“And the soldier outside, sir? Does he have any information to speak of?”
“He had nothing but babbles. He was found unconscious outside, smelling of honey liquor,” Panak said. “I don’t think he let the killer in on purpose. Most likely incompetence—drunk and disarmed by the killer—but we threw him in the stocks. What a disgrace of a soldier.”
Kunal nodded mutely. The boy must have died overnight from his injuries.
The commander sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He looked as if he had aged years in just a few hours.
“Any suspects, sir?” Kunal asked, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
Commander Panak hesitated. “One.”
Kunal waited for more, but the commander didn’t clarify, instead staring at Kunal as though he were considering something.
“Meet me in the Hall of Generals in an hour, Kunal.” The commander’s voice softened almost imperceptibly. “You’ll want to be there.”
Chapter 5
Esha glanced backward every so often as she made her way through the mud roads of Pora, the small traders’ town situated in the hilly groves on the edge of the Tej rain forest.
Pora was a pit stop for weary travelers or traders on the Great Road, the main trading path that cut east and west through the Southern Lands. It was also where one of her contacts, Jiten, used an unassuming pawn shop as a cover for more unsavory business.
Jiten’s shop had been her only stop on her way to the Fort. He was also one of the few non-Blades who might have a real crescent pin, as it was only given to Blades or their close associates to mark them as safe for business.
For his sake, she hoped her suspicion was wrong.
She couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched as she passed through the city center, despite knowing that no one knew she was the Viper. After finding the crescent pin and her whip in the dead general’s room the night before, she couldn’t be sure of anything.
Only that she would have to be on high alert now.
The empty path behind her didn’t give her much comfort either. Esha knew the soldiers would be after the Viper when they found her real whip; she had bartered on it. The only comfort she had was that none of those soldiers would be looking for a girl.
A thousand questions flooded her mind, all of them leading back to one sickening realization.
What if the general’s murderer knew she wasn’t just the Viper, but one of the Crescent Blades? Worse, that she was one of the masterminds, a co-leader with Harun, the crown prince of Dharka?
Though the Fort soldiers fought against the Blades in border skirmishes, they were soldiers bred for war and it was the infantry who carried out the raids on the rebel outposts. But bad blood like this might coerce even the elite Senap guards to pursue the rebels and capture them.
Esha’s hand immediately went to her right arm, rubbing her elbow as she remembered the last time she had encountered the Senap Guard. After the Senaps murdered her parents in front of her, they had taken her captive and held her for weeks in the citadel prison at Gwali for “questioning.” One of the bones they broke never set well. She had trained around it, ignoring the way her left arm never extended as fully as the right, using her whips to make up for it.
All in the name of the lost princess, the one who got away.
Esha shivered and turned the corner, ducking under a low stone archway. The merchants’ silk-covered stalls shone like uncut rubies to her left; she turned right.
Even sending a note back to Harun at the rebel base might be dangerous, especially if it was intercepted or tipped off whoever had framed her. Only a select few had known she was heading on this mission. She was on her own for now.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been cornered, and she would get her answers, even if she had to beat them out of someone. Starting with Jiten, who was her only lead.
The narrow mud paths opened into the outskirts of town, where huts and tents were spread out over the low grassy hills. On the horizon she could spot the Tej rain forest, a glimmering green and gold in the hazy sunlight. It used to extend till Pora, its vines and trees crawling over buildings, but that had all changed in recent years.
Esha tugged at the straps of her pack, securing them as they slid down her sweaty back. At least the turban provided her some relief from the dust flying about, remnants of scorched earth from the drought. Everywhere she went, there were signs that the land was dying.
It had been different ten years ago. The heat had still been punishing, but it held a gentleness, and the land turned out beautiful purple flowers and lip-puckering fruits. Nothing grew in this patch of land anymore, after the Bhagya River, their mother river, started to vanish, after the janma bond had been broken.
She blamed the Pretender King.
A decade ago, Vardaan Himyad had been second in line to the Dharkan throne as the younger of the two princes, but still, he wasn’t satisfied. He’d joined Queen Shilpa’s service in Jansa after the end of the War in the North and had slowly consolidated power along with Setu Hotha, then only a commander. Vardaan promised land and riches to those who followed his rule, recruiting two of the five noble houses of Jansa to his cause.
On the longest night of the year, as soon as the Jansan royal family had returned from their trip to the mountains to renew the janma bond, Vardaan and Hotha struck. Vardaan and the general took control of the capital while the army, loyal to Hotha, captured two military garrisons and the Blood Fort, murdering the royal family, their personal court, and anyone who fought back.
All the Samyads, the ruling royal family for centuries, wiped out in one night.
The story was that the royals had been plotting treason against Jansa, allying with the Yavar clansmen up north to take over the Southern Lands. But most knew the truth—that the Pretender King had taken the throne for his own power and benefit.
The day after the solstice, what was once a day to celebrate the Sun Maiden’s return to the land was now known as the Night of Tears for the families that woke up to death and grief. It was whispered that the gods themselves shed tears that night, their anger turning the sky stormy, providing the wild monsoon that hid Princess Reha’s path away from the palace as she escaped her aunt’s murderer.